


Endless dreams, fading too fast to fulfill

by CloudDragon



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: ..hopefully, Alternate Universe, Billiam loves three things and those are 1: egg 2: karl 3: riches in that order, Billiam makes Ranbutler suffer and thus I shall not feel regret for making him suffer, Episode: e005 The Masquerade, Fluff and Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I haven't actually used that tag before, M/M, Paradise Found, The fic in a nutshell: Karl gets an egg cultist to take notes for him, Time Travel, Time Travelling Karl Jacobs, Web Series: Tales from the SMP, all the while he's literally vanishing and going back to his own time, also random and completely off-topic question, and is probably never going to see said egg cultist again, but people who run ceremonies for a religion basically, crimson egg (Dream SMP), does that make all the streamers like. don't know the proper word, i think, my friends dragged me into this ship and so I'm writing for it, no beta we die like the masquerade guests, not sure if this counts as unrequited love or not, piglin hybrid Billiam or something idk, short Sir Billiam supremacy, since twitch prime is basically a religion in the dream SMP, then relentlessly flirts with that egg cultist, they're important religious folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29483967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudDragon/pseuds/CloudDragon
Summary: AU where Sir Billiam decides to try and convince Karl to join the side of the egg, because he's actually rather grown to like Karl(A fact all the survivors of the masquerade are surprised by), and Karl, not wanting to die and knowing the egg won't let him live if he doesn't, accepts.He doesn't die in the hallway of the mansion, and instead his trip away from Billiam's time is slower, more peaceful, and to all parties involved, sadder.(Or: Someone on discord got me into the semi-crackship of Karlliam and so I decided to write fanfic about it.)
Relationships: Except by technoblade I mean sir billiam there's just no tag for him, Karl Jacobs/Technoblade
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	Endless dreams, fading too fast to fulfill

_It's about time._ Karl thought, watching as he started to fade, the tips of his fingers the first to leave this time as he was called, hopefully, back to his home. He liked his fingers going first a lot better than his feet, he always had to find somewhere to sit down when it started with his feet and he had to hop and- and this was better, generally.

He fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt, tapping his foot as he waited - Why did this always take so long - to leave the time he'd travelled to behind.

He turned at the sound of footsteps, and spotted Sir Billiam walking towards him, giving the hybrid a small wave with his non-fading hand. "Hey!"

Sir Billiam smiled slightly. "Did I ever finish giving you a tour?" He asked, offering his hand for Karl to hold, and Karl took it. Karl shook his head. "Well then, let's finish that, _Sir_ Karl."

Karl chuckled, letting Billiam lead him through the mansion. "You're so formal all the time." He said.

"It's one of my defining traits." Sir Billiam said. "Right up there with being rich and being a follower of the egg."

Karl's smile turned more unsteady at that, though he tried not to let it show. The egg. Sir Billiam had tried to get Karl on its side, giving him a bowl of stew made from its vines that was made to get whoever drank it under the egg's control, and Karl had drunk it, knowing as he saw the sword the butler held that if he hadn't he would have been killed. That his blood would have joined the rest on the floor of the room, and that there would only have been two survivors of that masquerade.

Sir Billiam continued to babble on about the different rooms, but Karl wasn't really listening anymore. He pulled his fading arm out of his sweatshirt's pocket, and saw that it hadn't even reached his elbow yet. He put it back in his pocket, hiding it from Billiam's view just in time, as Billiam turned around to show him a painting that he'd forgotten to talk about.

Karl followed him, listened half-heartedly to the history of the painting, until he saw a good chance to talk.

"Say, could you do something for me?" Karl asked, smiling.

Sir Billiam raised an eyebrow, more out of amusement than anything else. "And that is?"

Karl took his good hand out of the other man's grasp, reaching into his pockets for a book and quill. "Can you write down like, a summary of everything that happened today? So we have it to look back on."

Billiam took the book in his hands, flipping through the pages to see if anything had been written in it yet. "I would ask the butler to do it, but he doesn't know how to write."

Karl nodded. "So can you?"

The hybrid trotted over to a nearby desk, setting the book down and opening up a vial of ink to write with. "I suppose I can."

Karl pulled up another chair and sat beside him, leaning against his shoulder, and that got another chuckle out of the other man, alongside a small blush, if Karl was seeing that right. Billiam pushed past it, focusing on the page in front of him. "What sort of things do you want me to include?" He asked.

"Make it like you're telling a story." Karl said. "About how Sir Billiam invited people to his party, at a small mansion built of dark oak and cobblestone, of how you welcomed your guests, even the odd ones, say all their names and describe them, for history's sake." Karl's voice had lowered to a whisper, and if he'd been a mind reader, he would have called Billiam a simp for the things dashing across his mind at the moment.

Sir Billiam began to write, and Karl continued. "Talk about how we gathered in the big room, drinking and partying, when the lights dimmed and we ran our separate ways. How Qu- How Drew, or whatever his name was, was the first to die, and then more of us fell after that. Make the reveal of the culprit as dramatic as you want, I know you have a flair for that sort of thing." Karl looked down at his arm, or what was left of it; He probably only had a minute or so until Billiam noticed, but for now he was focused on writing down the story(Or, more specifically, on impressing Karl).

He had to make the time he had left count.

"Write how I joined you, _Sir._ " Karl said, stopping laughter from bubbling up in his throat as the tips of the other man's ears somehow turned pinker. "How you brought me to our side, write about our plans for the future, what we're going to do from here. Babble and ramble from there on out, my love. The page is yours."

He watched, content for a moment, as Billiam continued to write, his handwriting surprisingly easy to read as he filled page after page with words, with hopes, with desires and dreams. He described the room they were in; One of the libraries, with red and white carpet, and dark oak bookshelves that covered one of the walls in its entirety. It had started to turn to dusk, so Billiam had carried a lantern with him for the duration of the tour so he and Karl could see, and the rest of the mansion was dark. Karl had pointed out that the butler would probably have a light on, but Billiam said he wouldn't, as he had good night vision. That made enough sense to Karl, so he let him continue.

The descriptions Billiam wrote got more complex than that in places, and through the words everything felt so real, and Karl could, in his mind's eye, see it all as clearly as he could when he had first travelled to the location.

He opened his eyes, though, and everything was distant. Billiam's form was slightly blurred, and likewise the mansion's details were hard to make out. The easy-to-read handwriting stopped being, and, after a second to gather his nerves, he spoke again.

"Do you think you've written enough now?" Karl asked, using his good arm to prop himself up to lean over Billiam's shoulder and look at the things he had written. _He filled so many pages, how fast can he write?_

Billiam contemplated that question for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, will this do?" He asked, turning to meet Karl's eyes.

Karl nodded, taking the book from the desk and closing it, standing up from his seat. "Yes, this is great. Thank you!" 

Sir Billiam's smile dropped, and within a second the pig-man was up, reaching out towards Karl. "Wh- Karl, oh prime, you're hurt-" He said, and Karl was surprised by the sudden mood shift.

He got why, though; If someone's entire arm, plus a shoulder, half of their torso, and most of one leg, had entirely vanished and they weren't seeming to mind, he'd be worried too.

Billiam stepped away, going to run out of the room. "Hang on, I have a couple of healing potions in the other room, I'll be right-"

Karl's smile softened. "It's not going to help, Sir." He said.

Sir Billiam froze, turning back towards Karl and grabbing his still-working hand, which Karl had to readjust to not drop the book he was still holding. "No, come on, the egg can help you maybe, I just need to get you to its room."

"I'm not dying, if that's what you're worrying about." Karl said.

Billiam kept pulling him anyways, to the room with the painting the egg room was hidden behind. "Then what the fuck is happening, Karl?" He asked.

 _He.. Actually sounds worried..?_ "This just happens sometimes." He said(was that a lie?). "I'll be fine."(Was that one too?)

The other man stopped, finally, turning to look at the man behind him. "But what- I- Why?"

"Nothing I can tell you." Karl said, and somehow Billiam's face fell more, and - curse his heart for always going and getting attached to someone - he wished he could change that, go back to the moment before with the book and the endless dreams, where the man who probably saw him as a lover had been happy.

"You said you're not dying, right?" Billiam said. "So what's going to happen when you vanish all the way?"

Karl seemed to shrug. "I'll be teleported back home. Maybe we'll find each other again at some point, maybe we won't."

Sir Billian picked a half-written book up from where one had been left on the table who-knows-when, opening it up and erasing the first page, scrawling down something - coordinates, Karl realized - and then handing the book to him. "So you can find me."

Karl took the book, putting it in his inventory. "Thanks." He said. 

"You can come back if you have that, right?" Billiam said. "Promise?"

 _Ah, fuck, promises._ Promises were such a hassle to make in situations like this, whatever sort of situation this was. "I can't promise that I'll be able to, but I promise that if I get the chance to try, I'll take it." He said. 

He felt his remaining leg start to give, felt his remaining arm start to fall apart, and leaned down to give Billiam a kiss on the cheek. "Until next time, sir."

The last thing he saw was the mask and the red eyes, and the tears, of a man who loved him, as the rest of him fell apart.

**Author's Note:**

> He hopes eating that egg soup won't have any lasting side effects, that would suck.


End file.
